The Truth About Celia Frost Read Online Free PDF Page B

Approaching the house, he
peered into the back room and then the tiny kitchen. Again, they were poorly furnished and showed no signs of life. A wheelie bin, with the number of the house daubed on it, stood in the yard. He
looked around to check he wasn’t being watched and then opened the lid, preparing to sift through the contents. Even though it was a dirty job, it often produced great results. He knew that
every day people threw out bills, letters, bank statements, expired membership cards – all kinds of things that were a goldmine of personal information and could let someone like him into
their lives in a second. However, today he wasn’t in luck. The bin had recently been emptied and all that remained was the lingering stench of rotting rubbish.
    He returned to the car and phoned the number printed on the To Let sign.
    “Hello,” a man answered.
    “Oh hi,” Frankie said. “Are you dealing with the property to let on Central Street?”
    “Yeah, I’m the landlord.”
    “Good,” Frankie said. “I’m interested in renting the house. Is it still available?”
    “Yeah, absolutely,” the landlord replied eagerly. “It’s a great little house; very homely. It’s only been vacant a couple of weeks. It’ll probably get snapped
up.”
    “Why did the last tenants leave then? Not problems with the neighbours was it? Because I’ve been through that before,” Frankie said, injecting his voice with anxiety.
    The landlord snorted. “No! Nothing like that. Must have been money troubles. They did a flit out of the blue – still owe me a month’s rent.”
    “Oh, bad luck mate.” Frankie feigned sympathy. “Could I see round the house then? Say at...five o’clock today?”
    “Sure, no problem. I’ll meet you there, Mr...?”
    “Mr. Hughes. Paul Hughes. I’ll see you later then.”
    In light of these developments, Frankie’s next step was to call the mobile number that was on the hospital report. If Janice Frost answered, then he was ready with his
usual patter about how she’d won a big cash prize in a draw that she may not even remember entering and how he just needed to confirm her details before sending the cheque out to her. Frankie
always found that the thought of winning money caught even the most cautious people off guard and before they’d had time to think it through, they’d already told him all he needed to
know. However, when he rang the number, the line was dead.
    “This case is going to be more legwork than is good for me,” he sighed, rubbing his round belly.
    He pulled himself and the parcel out of the car again and went knocking at the houses on either side of the empty property. There was no reply from the house on the left but, on the other side,
a woman answered.
    “Sorry to disturb you, madam, but I’ve got a parcel for Janice Frost at the address next door. You don’t know how I can get hold of her, do you?”
    “I haven’t got a clue. One morning they were here, next minute they were gone.” The woman began to shut the door.
    “Is there anyone on the street who might know how to contact her?” Frankie asked hurriedly.
    “Shouldn’t think so. The woman wasn’t a mixer. Very quiet, although the kid used to play her music too loud sometimes, but I never complained. I felt sorry for her. The mother
never let her go out. I thought it was cruel.” And with that the door was closed on him.
    Frankie was beginning to think that the neighbour had been right. He’d knocked on ten houses up and down the street and gained no information, apart from the odd comment
about how the Frosts had only been on the street a few months and how the mother might have said hello but never wanted to chat.
    Frankie decided to try just one more. He’d spotted an old lady in the house directly opposite, looking out from her front room. To his surprise, as he approached her door, she beckoned him
in.
    “Just give it a push, dear. I always leave it on the latch; saves me having to get